The Detention
by OneWhoTurns
Summary: One detention was all it took. One night, and they couldn't get her out of their heads. While Blaise was perfectly happy to deal with this little fixation, Draco had a harder time of it. (D/G B/G, RomComDram, Lots of verbal sparring and sexual tension, and a bit of smut on the side! Should be fun! Note: Includes side plot drama as well - not all fluff.)
1. 1: The Best Offense is a Good Defense

_A/N: I enjoy school-set D/G and B/G stories, so I've decided to set this little D/G/B dabbling in AU-ville back in Ginny's sixth year, ignoring books six and seven, and most of book five. Oh, and why not – let's modernize a bit as well. It's just a bit of delightful drabble, with a touch of underlying drama that can surface at some point in the future. Plenty of smut to come – should be fun!_

_The chapters will be of varying lengths, posted at varying times, since I have no real schedule at the moment and simply write when the mood strikes. I apologize for that in advance, I know it can be a pain. Hope you enjoy anyway!_

Disclaimer: Don't own; don't sue.

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Chapter 1: The Best Offense is a Good Defense  


"Ginny, you have _got_ to stop doing this," Hermione sighed as she met Ginny in the Hospital Wing.

The redhead did not look impressed by her friend's weary plea. This was the third time this year that the older girl had had to talk Ginny out of a punishment, and it was only October. "I said no. He didn't move his hand. That's cause for finger breakage," she insisted as they disembarked from the clinic, her tone nonchalantly steady but with an undercurrent of annoyance.

Ginny had returned for her sixth year looking basically how she'd looked in fifth year – same gingery copper hair, same freckles and wicked grin – though she had luckily filled out a bit from the scrawny petite thing she'd been last spring. She wasn't exactly a bombshell, still too skinny for her short frame, but she was getting there. Three more years, maybe, and everything would even out. In the mean-time, her burgeoning curves had her dealing with the steadily growing flirtation front. While she'd had boys hit on her every once in a while in previous years, this year Ginny wasn't taking any of it. She'd taken on a militant "no means no" policy, and intended to make that fact clear to anyone who didn't want to listen. Even if all they were doing was placing a hand on her shoulder, as MacDougal had been.

"I can't keep bailing you out, Gin, why can't you just – I don't know, step away?" Hermione's tone was more tired than exasperated, but still – "I just can't comprehend why you have to be so violent."

The freckled nose of the accused raised a bit higher. Violent? She wasn't violent, just… Well, alright, perhaps she was a bit violent. She didn't honor her friend with an answer, instead scowling slightly at the accusation as they merged into a main corridor.

Hermione glanced sideways at Ginny, becoming more edgy with the silence. Her slight wringing of her fingers gave it away before the brunette spoke. "Ginny-"

"What, Hermione?" Ginny interrupted snappishly, immediately feeling a little guilty about it, but not letting that guilt show.

The seventh-year looked less than pleased as she pursed her lips. Finally, she snapped back, "Madame Pomfrey told me to issue you a detention." Ginny's mouth opened in surprise, but Hermione continued, "I wasn't going to, seeing as the only professor offering to oversee miscellaneous detentions is Snape, but now that I see you're so _obviously_ unrepentant-"

"Hermione-"

"-I suppose I have no choice," her so-called friend finished, with a tone of irked finality.

Ginny stopped moving, causing a third year to jerk out of his path to avoid a narrow collision with the redhead. "But-" She wasn't even sure what to say. "It was self defense!" She argued, her combative attitude beginning to slip more toward a plea.

"He didn't hit you, Ginny, you could've just moved away; you didn't have to _break his thumb_," Hermione emphasized the younger girl's offense dramatically, making it clear what she thought of that excuse as she propped her books against her hip and leveled a hard glare at Ginny.

Ginny broke eye contact, looking away almost sheepishly, and immediately cursed herself for backing down. She'd made herself a zero tolerance policy and she should be sticking to it. But detention?! She couldn't afford a detention every time some boy didn't listen the first time she told him something. If that were the case, any conversation with Ron would land her a week with Snape. "…Fine. I'll try to give more warning." She knew she should probably stop there, but the next few words slipped from her lips anyway, "Is that what you wanted to hear?"

Hermione rolled her eyes in annoyance and continued walking briskly, forcing Ginny to jog to catch up. "No, Ginny, that's _not_ what I wanted to hear. I want to hear you take responsibility for your actions and admit that perhaps – just _perhaps_ – your solution isn't the be-all end-all."

Hermione's shoes clacked gently against the floors as Ginny's trainers padded alongside nearly silently, and Ginny said not a word. She bit her lip. She just couldn't do that. "…So when's this detention?" She was resigned to the punishment, no matter how much she hated it.


	2. 2: The Reprobates

_A/N: Feel free to leave any ideas for the story you might have, anything you'd like to see – I tend to have spotty muse, so anything that gets my brain going is greatly appreciated! And I will be sure to credit. Take note, though, that I have already started on the next 'chapter' (really, they're more like chapter-lets, they're so short), so your idea may not show up right away even if I do decide to use it._

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Chapter 2: The Reprobates

There were reasons Ginny stuck to her guns. Real, specific reasons. But as she sat in Snape's classroom, fidgeting restlessly among a group of four other delinquent students as Snape murmured directions to the Slytherin prefects he'd deputized into helping oversee detention, she was finding it hard to remember what those reasons were, exactly.

Carefully glancing to the other students in a way that wouldn't draw too much attention, Ginny surveyed her present company.

There was some twitchy second or third year who looked scared shitless to be trapped in the same room with Snape (a feeling Ginny might be able to sympathize with if she'd been his age); one fifth and one seventh year boy, seated as far from each other as possible, who kept exchanging heated glares (Ginny suspected they'd been caught fighting in the corridors); and a mini chavette who looked like a 13-year-old trying to pass for 25, blatantly displaying a pack of fags out the back pocket of her leggings despite their status as contraband. Ginny stared down at her hands. And she belonged here for… what, exactly?

"I hed cha broke some bloke's arm fa touchin' ya, din' ya? Chhhh, wot kyn' prude is ya, den?*"

If Ginny had had less self-control she might just have ripped the girl's ears, and their massive hoop earrings, from her thick skull. But Ginny had better sense than that. So she just continued to look at her hands, picturing running over the girl's inevitable tiny dog with a bus. The downsides of muggle culture.

"Yeah, Weaslette, the mudblood asked you a question: what kind of uptight cunt are you?"

It was much harder to not react to the snide murmured tone of Draco Malfoy, and the twitching of Ginny's thumb belied her growing anger, but she managed to bite her tongue, her eyes trained on her nails even as she saw him move into the corner of her vision. He was one of Snape's trusted deputies, after all. The bugger. He was lucky he'd been speaking quiet enough that Snape, still occupied with the other two Slytherin prefects, hadn't heard his disgusting comment.

When she didn't reply, the prat had the gall to continue to bait her.

"I've heard Missy over there is banging half the boys in my house, and she's only a third year," Malfoy's voice had a touch of sadistic delight as the tall blonde moved close enough that Ginny could feel the heat radiating off of him (funny; she'd figured him to be cold-blooded, the snake). His presence so close to her raised the hairs on the back of her neck in prickling anger, and all she wanted to do was hex the git into oblivion. But he continued; "Do you just think you're too good for the likes of MacDougal?" He was barely over a foot away, his hand resting on the table behind hers, angled just so to cut her off from the rest of the classroom, and he leaned down to offer his second option. "Or are you waiting for Potter to deflower you with his broomsti-"

He was unable to finish that comment, however, due to a swift jab in the kidneys. To his credit, he didn't cry out; he just winced and let out a small 'oof,' not even noticeable by Snape, even when Malfoy straightened and stepped away.

"I'd appreciate it if you kept your distance, Malfoy," Ginny murmured in an icily casual tone, raising her hands from the desk to continue her now very in-depth inspection of her nails. "I wouldn't want to give you an accidental vasectomy the next time I slip." Her internal review board didn't find the comeback entirely satisfying, but it would do. It seemed to work, as Malfoy narrowed his eyes, but returned to the other prefects, now arraying themselves at the front of the room as Snape turned to address the assembled delinquents.

"As some of you need to be separated from others," Snape glared icily at the feuding fifth and seventh year, pointedly, "I'll be having a few assistants in your detentions tonight." Somehow, whenever Snape spoke Ginny felt like she was being towed along in a cart going about half the speed she wanted to be going. His nonchalant droning, while sufferable in class, was extra irritating in a situation like tonight. "Cauldwell and Graham, you'll be with me; Weasley, you're with Parkinson; Hanley, with Berrow; Westin, with Malfoy."

The little gathering of reprobates split off to their assigned wardens, and probably for the first time in her life Ginny was actually glad to be assigned to spend time with Pansy Parkinson. As she shuffled over to the girl – who looked beyond irritated just to look at the redhead – the professor forced the twitchy boy and the angry fifth year to follow after him as he moved out of the classroom like some sort of ominous storm.

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_A/N: *I heard you broke some bloke's arm for touching you, didn't you? *Tsk* What kind of prude are you, then?_


	3. 3: When the Cat's Away

Chapter 3: When the Cat's Away…

As soon as he was gone, the youngest Slytherin prefect – Darius Berrow – went to sit on the table next to the chavette. "Oi, Westin, pass a couple fags, will you?" He nudged her with a foot, and the girl smirked, fishing the cigarettes out from her back pocket and standing to place one in the older boy's mouth. Ginny glanced away: she was fairly sure that those rumors Malfoy had been suggesting were about to gain some momentum, with the blatantly suggestive moves the Westin girl was pulling.

Following his first exhale, Berrow called casually, "Malfoy, you mind if we switch?"

The blonde, who'd taken his own toll from the chavette's stores, as passed to him by Berrow, waved a hand dismissively as he lit his own cigarette.

Pansy was having none of it. "If Darius is switching, so am I," she demanded, "I want to work with Niles." Her tone held just a hint of flirtation as she shot eyes at the other rowdy boy, who seemed eager to accept the trade.

Malfoy scowled, but relented. "Fine, do whatever you want. You owe me," he grumbled around the lit cigarette as he stood and put his wand away.

Parkinson smirked wickedly and grabbed Hanley's hand, dragging him into the supply closet for what Ginny was fairly sure was not a detention assignment. Ginny had to scoff, quietly.

"Jealous, Weasley?" Malfoy was keeping back a couple feet, leaning against the table across from her, but made a point to blow smoke into Ginny's face with a smirk.

Ginny was looking up now, unable to feign interest in her nails any longer. "I'm not exactly eager to snog a cow like Parkinson," the redhead retorted, letting out only a slight huff of a cough, but enough that Malfoy's smirk widened at her discomfort.

When she refused to elaborate, Malfoy went in for another barb. "I bet your cunt is like some attic crawlspace: tight, but so dusty that no one even wants to get near there."

He must've thought he was so clever, the way he was smirking so casually. "I don't understand your fascination with my genitals, Malfoy." Ginny went for blunt, meeting his grey eyes with a challenging look in her chocolate ones. "Besides which, you're contradicting yourself. You were the one who assumed MacDougal was interested in me; now you're claiming people are avoiding my vagina like the plague."

Malfoy seemed a bit off balance by Ginny's straightforward tone of discussion, a barely veiled attack on her part.

"What, uncomfortable discussing genitalia?" Her words were dipped in venomous sarcasm, "You were the one who brought it up. Oh-" she made a pointed glance to his crotch, "-unless you can't." She paused, and looked him in the eyes with a challenge. "Bring it up, I mean." As though she needed to make it any clearer.

He was reddening slightly, obviously offended by her targeting of his masculinity, but refused to give in. "Careful, Weasley, your penis envy is showing," he murmured. His knuckles were whitening where they clutched the edge of the table behind him, his anger simmering just under the surface. But before she could retaliate, he was looming over her, one hand on her table and the other on the one behind her, the hand nearest her holding the cigarette close enough to make Ginny wary. "As fun as this has been, you have work to do." He pulled away. "Get up, Weaslette," he commanded, back in prefect mode and happy to take advantage of the power that position gave him.

Ginny rolled her eyes, but stood, embodying all the pride and pomp of a girl a good foot taller than her. Unfortunately, she was only 160cm (5'3"), so she didn't make quite the same impression. Still, she'd been known to intimidate.

It wasn't about to work on Malfoy, however. The boy was like an abominable snowman to Ginny; towering over her at 190cm (6'3"), all pale skin and platinum hair-

"You know, if someone just flashed a light on you every once in a while, I'm pretty sure you could guide in boats and brooms alike." Her internal review board now was sending an inspector to screen her insults; they just weren't up to muster. But Malfoy seemed as though he couldn't give a shit, which was almost a relief, as it gave her some more time to come up with something better. She really just wanted to rip him to pieces with her wit, but it was still tied up processing the rest of the material from her life.

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_A/N: Kind of an odd point to stop, but as you can tell these chapters aren't exactly chapters. Once I have a better idea of where I'm going I'll probably combine them into more continuous chunks instead of snippets. Again: please, if you have any ideas, I'd love to hear them! Just plug it in to that review box down there! Or, if you don't want to be seen reviewing an M-rated story (cowards :P) PM me! ^^  
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	4. 4: Bound to End Badly

_A/N: A few things: _

_1) I have to apologize to how spotty my writing is; if I was doing this while a bit more focused, I'm sure I'd be spending far more time developing character, etc. but I've just been writing this between 11pm and 4am, on days where I haven't taken my adhd meds. Therefore, it is a bit scattered. _

_2) WOW a lot of people are reading this! I'm pretty impressed. Makes me think that maybe I should spout off a few one-shot scenes that have been bouncing around in my head. If anyone has ideas for things they want to see, or interesting situations that could spark a scene, let me know! I'm trying to get back into writing without a partner before school starts up again. _

_3) I have three more "chapters" written and ready to post as well; trying to stick to posting post-midnight on nights that I've written, so I have something in the reserves to work with. _

_4) I love comments – reviews, PMs, however you want to get in touch with me, I'd love to read what you have to say! Also, I do tend to check out the pages of people who follow or favorite my work, and will try to read the stories that appeal to my ships if you have any available. I also love editing if anyone wants some help with that. And without further ado:_

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Chapter 4: Bound to End Badly*

The blonde lead her out of the room and down the gloomy stone hallway, presumably in the opposite direction than Snape had taken his students, as there was no sign of the greasy professor or his wards. The tip of the cigarette glowed from where it hung lazily from his slender fingers, not bright enough to light their way, but easily visible in the low light of the dungeons. She'd never pegged him for a smoker, figuring he was too uptight and traditional for that sort of thing, but now she thought about it, she shouldn't really be surprised. He never thought anything could hurt him; why should he worry about school rules or health risks?

With another drag of the cig, Malfoy flicked it down the next hall they passed, and Ginny was slightly relieved for the dissipation of the smoke, if a little impatient from his silence. She hated following meekly. She wanted to be giving him hell, but was also well aware how much hell he could put her through as long as she was considered under his watch. Her lips pursed, and she drummed her fingers against the hem of her skirt, wondering what exactly she was tasked with tonight.

As if he'd heard her thoughts, Malfoy stopped at the next door on their left. "I do hope your clan of inbreds knows how to read, Weaslette-" he spoke as he opened the lock with a key he'd slipped from his pocket, and pushed the door open and gestured for her to enter, "-You're to catalogue these for the library."

The room was cramped and crowded, smaller than a classroom but larger than a closet, with one table and one chair. And so many books. There were piles of them everywhere in sight. Some had managed to be placed correctly on a few of the musty bookshelves, but it looked as though whoever had been putting them in the room had lost motivation and instead stuck them in at whatever angle wherever there was space. The floor was barely visible, and suddenly Ginny realized how lucky it was that Malfoy had already disposed of the cigarette, given the amount of clearly flammable material in the small stone room.

"I'd certainly think so, Malfoy, considering we've all made it through our OWLs," she kept her voice pleasant, perhaps irritatingly so, her voice almost arrogant, making it clear she thought his barb so bad as to be laughable. Sometimes the best comeback was simply stating indisputable facts. She brushed past him cheerily, a slight smirk on her lips, and then halted. Yeah, this might be a problem. She wasn't exactly sure how she was even supposed to get to the desk without climbing over the scattered tomes.

The blonde blinked, but didn't let her words faze him. It seemed to be turning into a battle of the nonchalance. "Go on, Red," he nudged her calf with his foot, hard enough to make her stumble very slightly, and she shot a brief glare at him, receiving only a smug smirk in return. "You can't exactly catalogue these books from here." He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against the door, as though readying himself for some sort of entertainment.

Ginny pursed her lips and held her head proudly as she began her careful maneuvering toward the desk – it may have only been ten feet away, but those ten feet seemed plagued with obstacles. At one point she very nearly fell over, but managed to windmill her hands well enough to steady herself, even if she was left with a slight blush over her cheeks. She refused to look at Malfoy's reaction to that.

"You know, you could just _pick up_ the books," he suggested, the smug smirk evident in his tone, "I never said you couldn't touch them."

Ginny's annoyance was building, and she almost wanted to continue tiptoeing her way through just to spite him, but unfortunately that didn't look possible as the books became more and more densely crowded toward the desk. With a quiet huffed sigh, hoping Malfoy wouldn't hear her, she bent down to gather some books together, stacking them onto another pile to clear some space, her bright hair and loose jumper hanging in the way a bit. Hearing a "hm" noise from behind her, she straightened quickly, the blood rushing to her head as she turned back toward Malfoy and began rolling up her sleeves. She hesitated for just a moment as she saw his eyes flick up to meet hers.

…No, she was probably imagining it.

As he leered at her, though, she scowled, realizing she hadn't imagined it. He'd definitely been checking out her ass. Ew. Her face reddened a little, and she was glad she was facing away from him as she moved toward the desk again. The next time she bent to move books she made sure to crouch in a manner than wouldn't leave her backside so open to ogling, and she heard him stifle a snort in response.

When she stood to take her next few steps forward, she shot a glare back at him, her mouth twisted in annoyance that she realized, too late, was plain to see. Aware her nonchalant demeanor had slipped, she piped up, "What's that supposed to mean?" She'd wanted to sound uncaring, maybe even amused, but her self-conscious anxiety tightened her tone.

"I'm just trying to see what MacDougal saw in you," he stated, bluntly, that annoying smirk still flitting over his lips. He shook his head. "Not seein' it."

Ginny, despite still being quite red, merely rolled her eyes.

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_*A/N: The chapter name is a pun, guys! Get it? :D Cause books are bound! …Yeah, well, it was the best I could come up with. As always; if you have any better ideas, let me know!_


	5. 5: Better Read Than Dead

_A/N: Really guys? I've posted every day the last four days and gotten close to 700 views, but no reviews? _

…_Good thing I'm bringing in everyone's favorite pre-6__th__-book interpretation of a Slytherin. :P_

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Chapter 5: Better Read Than Dead

Ginny was close enough to the desk now that she could make it to the seat without stumbling over anything, and took a few careful steps, nudging piles of books aside with her feet. Even the desk chair housed a stack of dusty leather-bound volumes. As she lifted them (heavy, yes, but she wasn't about to ask Malfoy for help, and she was perfectly capable of doing it on her own), she wrinkled her nose, and had barely dumped the books on the desk in time to bring her sleeve-covered hands to her nose to cover her squeak of a sneeze.

Shaking her head and crinkling her nose with a small scowl, she managed to pull the seat out and move things on the desk enough to make space for her to work.

"Do you have some sort of how-to for this? Or parchment, or-" she looked toward Malfoy as she spoke, and found that he was casually stepping through the books, hands in his pockets and a self-satisfied smirk on his lips, managing it far more gracefully than she had.

Well, of course he was: she'd cleared all the books out of his way.

The fact that he maneuvered with no difficulty made Ginny more cross than she already had been. Making it look so easy… the prick.

Once he'd reached her little island free of clutter, he perched himself on the edge of the desk and waved his wand, conjuring up a roll of parchment. He tossed it, and the summoned quill and ink, on to the desk in front of her. "Title, author, date of publication – it's all on there." He gestured dismissively with one hand, and pulled one foot up to rest on the desk as he glanced around.

Ginny was slightly confused. She'd expected a barb of some sort. She didn't run into Malfoy all that often, but every time it seemed to be all banter and threats. For him to actually give her a straight answer was a first – even if it was a dismissive one.

"So if you can't read, Weaslette, how _did_ you pass your OWLs?" He was sneering at her again.

Ginny realized she'd been staring, and blinked a few times. His pale brows raised as he eyed the scroll in her hands, pointedly. "It's not going to write itself."

She glared and unrolled the parchment, flattening the top of it under one of the thick books as she unrolled it and set up her quill and ink. A quick glance over the ledger made it clear that the task was quite simple, and Ginny realized that this was still the detention planned for the third year chavette that she'd switched places with. She brightened a bit at that, and opened the first book on the stack next to her, beginning to copy down its information.

After ten or fifteen minutes had passed in silence, Ginny managing to copy the catalogue information for several books, she piped up. "How did you pass _your_ OWLs, Malfoy? Did your father pay off the examiners?" She spoke the words casually, calmly, not even looking at him as she continued her work, but a small vicious smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

He didn't respond with words, instead leaning across the desk to look at her work. Before she could realize what exactly he was doing, he'd dragged a finger through her newest entries right up through the rest of the list, smudging ink across the parchment. "Oops." The word was dripping with icy revenge, and when Ginny looked up, her mouth open in offended shock, he was staring at her with a calculated smirk. "Looks like you'll have to copy it all over, Weasley."

She shut her mouth with a snap, and clenched her jaw. She wanted so badly to slap his hand away from the parchment, but she didn't trust herself not to punch him. So she stayed still. And he took that opportunity to-

It was like he was moving the offending finger, still smeared in ink, in slow motion. She caught his eyes in disbelief as his finger pressed into her forearm and dragged along the sleeve of her jumper, leaving a trail of ink. "_Oops,_" he said again, smirk widening, staring her straight in the eyes, daring her to protest.

The room seemed to be humming with Ginny's unspoken rage. She wanted so badly to hit him – to break a finger on him, as she had MacDougal - but she was frozen. She knew the potential consequences.

….Fuck it, he deserved it-

But before she could grab his hand to wrench his knuckles apart, he was pulling it away, looking toward the door which had just been kicked open. "Oi, Draco-" Both of them stood, breaking the tension, turning away from one another as the newcomer entered, jovially.

He was tall as well, though shorter than Malfoy, Ginny would've estimated his height at a little over 180cm (5'11" or so), with black hair and olive-toned skin that seemed to glow even in the low torchlight of the book-filled room. His eyes had barely seemed to see her, instead looking to the blonde. Truth be told, she wasn't really looking at him either. She'd turned her back to the two boys, feeling herself shaking with suppressed rage.

The newcomer was chatting to Malfoy, something about Hogsmeade and the winter hols, but Ginny couldn't hear over the angry ringing in her ears. She was fuming, feeling herself uncomfortably hot, and rolled her shoulders a couple of times, pacing, trying to release some of the rage that had built inside of her. She shook her head, and realized that this small space was already far too warm before Malfoy had lit the fuse of her anger. At this point, her jumper was ruined for the night, anyway – she wouldn't be able to clean it until she returned to her dorm and retrieved her wand – so she tugged at the hem and pulled it up over her head.

"I was just thinking we could- meet… well _hel-_lo…"

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_A/N: Cliffhanger! I can assume most of you can guess what may have just happened, but if not you'll be finding out at this time tomorrow! I have 9 chapters written now! And pretty consistent muse, too, so I should be posting regularly until it decides to desert me. How can we keep it from deserting me? Well, leave a review! The good, the bad, the suggestions or daydreams or wicked schemes – let me know! It keeps my muse alive!_


	6. 6: Stacked Problems

_A/N: Just wanted to say thanks to Nutmeg44 for agreeing to dish about my plans with me and help me discuss a few details for later on in the story. Also for reviewing. For proof that reviews are the best fuel a girl can run on: I wrote two whole chapters today. One of them was even before 11pm. Pretty impressive, no? So I have up through chapter 11 waiting in the wings! _

_And if you want a preview, or want to chat about the upcoming story, feel free to review or PM me and we can fangirl/fanboy out over it. I've been averaging out over 124 views a day since I posted! (over 189 views per day the last three days!) Glad to be drawing your attention! Hope you enjoy! ;D_

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Chapter 6: Stacked Problems _(aka Stacked on Stacks on Stacks)_  


Ginny only heard the voice as it was trailing off, and she peeled the jumper from her head, looking toward the dark-haired boy. He was staring at her. Or, more specifically, he was staring at her—

"Oh fucking Merlin-" Ginny hurriedly turned around, feeling her face practically glowing. Fuck. Fucking bugger. Buggering fucking bollocks. She scrambled to pull the shirt of her uniform down over the lacy pink thing, and almost considered putting her jumper back on, but she knew that would come off as overkill (besides which, if she'd been hot a minute ago, she'd be sweltering in it now that she was blushing like a madwoman).

She couldn't bear to face them. It was probably the most mortified she'd been in her life. And- oh, fuck, Malfoy had seen! She closed her eyes tight, pained. How could she possibly – no, no, it would be okay. She had more credibility. She could say they were lying. Given what he usually said about her family, that wouldn't be too hard to believe. …But still.

There was the sound of someone clearing their throat, and Ginny detected an underlying current of amusement.

She turned slowly, trying to act casual but well aware of how stilted her movements currently were.

The black-haired boy she recognized as Blaise Zabini, though when she racked her memory for dirt on him she didn't find much – mostly a lot of 'who's sleeping with who' gossip and some stories of outrageous parties; not much on the dark or mean side, although she had a feeling he was gifted with a clever tongue (and while she also had a feeling different people meant different things by that, she suspected most implied he was on the manipulative side).

"Oh…" Ginny didn't exactly have much of a choice. She managed an awkwardly self-deprecating smile and focused her attention on the black-haired Zabini instead of Malfoy. She could be friendly enough to him. "Hello." She spoke with a crooked smile, leaning one arm against the desk. Her eyelids fluttered shut in a long blink, berating herself. This was absolutely absurd.

When she opened her eyes again, Zabini was raising an eyebrow, looking highly entertained, and she thought she might've heard a slight chuckle.

The idea that he might be laughing with her opposed to at her (a very conscious decision for the interpretation on her part) helped her focus her thoughts toward how this was actually quite a funny story. "I didn't see you there," she joked awkwardly, shaking her head at her own lame humor, but holding back a laugh anyway. She would work this to her advantage. She tried to think of this as though it had happened near Fred and George. They knew how to get her to laugh it off.

"I can tell," Zabini was smirking as he replied wryly, but it didn't hold the same sort of pretentiousness that Malfoy's look often did – he came across as more cocky and flirtatious, less elitist. Maybe the dark hair and warm coloring just made him more relatable, opposed to Malfoy's icy sharpness.

"Really?" Ginny asked in an overtly cheery manner that made her sarcasm clear while not being biting.

Zabini grinned and nodded with her same 'oh, imagine that!' attitude.

For a moment they were both smiling at each other, and Ginny actually felt incredibly relieved and grateful to him for going along with it. It was hard to imagine, being grateful to a Slytherin, but he'd actually managed to make her feel more at ease. That didn't last long.

"Draco, are you going to introduce me to this gorgeous delinquent?"

Ginny's smile faltered. Of course. Now that Malfoy was back in the equation, it was hard to remain chipper. Especially as Zabini's words had Malfoy's previously mildly irked expression turning to one of glee. Like an inverse reaction, Ginny felt less and less confident the more confidence Malfoy seemed to gain.

"Gorgeous?" He snorted, "Apparently any pair of breasts impresses you, Zabini – even those pathetic things." Of course he had to insult her. Any opportunity he got. Ginny just rolled her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest before she realized that her body language had given away her discomfort. "That-" Malfoy's point moved up and down her body, "Is the littlest-"

Ginny, defiantly, stepped forward, holding a hand out with a determined confidence, "Ginny We-!" She yelped in surprise as her foot caught on one of the short stacks, sending her toppling forward. For a moment she thought she might actually catch herself, as her foot found purchase again, but then that, too, slipped, and she was falling again.

If only life had been a storybook romance, she may have ended up in the arms of the handsome Slytherin (and by that, Ginny most definitely referred to Zabini – Malfoy, while most would call him handsome, couldn't be described with any such word in Ginny's book). Unfortunately, it was not. So she ended up sprawled unevenly over the stacks of books that littered the path between her and the dark-haired boy.


	7. 7: Better Red Than Read

_A/N: Continued gratitude to Nutmeg44, for being an unofficial beta and plot runner. We've topped 1000 views! Yay! Now let's see if we can get those comments going! Perhaps a bite of Italian will wet those taste buds? ;D *muwahahha*  
_

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Chapter 7: Better Red Than Read

About all Ginny wanted just now was a time turner, so she might somehow undo the past hour. Or, better yet, the whole day. If only she hadn't gotten herself here in the first place… On the plus side, her horror had helped even out her skin tone, washing out her embarrassed red to a more shocked pink.

At the sound of a small chuckle, she looked up, warily. From her position, splayed out over several uncomfortably dissimilar stacks of books, she could see Zabini's amused smirk as he offered her a hand. She looked at it, eyeing him suspiciously, as she struggled to pull herself up enough to see without slipping even more on the precariously piled tomes.

He laughed at the obvious suspicion on her face, and crouched in front of her. "Calm down, Red, I'm just offering to help you up."

Ginny could totally see why Zabini was viewed as a sweet talker. His cocky smile and jovial attitude - not to mention his not unpleasant demeanor, or those sparkling golden hazel eyes – yeah, she could see how he'd ended up gossiped about romantically. He was attractive, there wasn't any denying that.

Malfoy's crossing his arms over his chest and rolling his eyes drew Ginny's attention back to the blonde. Also physically attractive, but he just wasn't as well liked. He'd had his fair share of girlfriends, she was sure, but they were usually Slytherins with the occasional Ravenclaw, whereas Zabini seemed universally lusted after. …Not that Ginny was lusting after him.

She narrowed her eyes, suspiciously, but took his hand, allowing him to help hoist her to her feet.

Too late, she realized that may not have been the best idea.

At first, he had helpfully steadied her, but once she was nearly on her feet, he tugged just enough for her to stumble toward him. Just enough for him to catch her as she stumbled, wrapping an arm around her waist, and one of hers around him, to 'keep her from falling again' as he directed her stumble right into his firm chest.

She looked up at him skeptically, to find his face eerily close and looking quite smug.

Oh, he was good. Manipulative couldn't begin to describe it.

"Thanks," her tone was wry as she shot him a look that was amused but not fooled.

Malfoy scoffed, and she hurriedly pulled away from Zabini's grasp, reminded of just where she was. The black-haired boy seemed to let her go reluctantly, but he did let her go. Truth be told, she was starting to think she wouldn't have minded staying in his hold a bit longer. Not that she ever really idolized the 'damsel in distress' role of a delicate dame in need of protection, but she had to admit Zabini made a good lean-to. All those toned muscles… she could definitely objectify that.

She returned the appreciative once-over he'd given her just a moment ago as she stepped away, tossing her hair over her shoulder and popping out a hip. Attitude? Oh, no, this was just how she always stood. She smirked at him briefly, well aware that her eyes shared his sharp gleam.

"Careful, Blaise, you may need to burn those clothes – she's a Weasley." While Malfoy's words were sent with his trademark obnoxious sneer, all three in the room knew he didn't mean it seriously.

Zabini sent her a look that made her instinctively want to snicker; "I'll only burn these if she helps me take them off first," he smirked, dismissing his friend's opinion.

Ginny had to admit, despite the dogged persistence of the dark-haired boy's flirting, his genial attitude had him growing on her. "No such luck, Zabini," she turned him down firmly, but bit her lip slightly, very tempted to flirt back. He was good looking, that was for sure, and not unpleasant. Besides; he was a Slytherin, so she was 99% sure nothing would ever come of it. But she'd had some… she didn't really want to think about her most recent experiences around the opposite sex; they had her very conflicted. In any case, she wasn't about to get involved with anyone recklessly. Even if they were gorgeous.

As Zabini raised his eyebrows, his golden eyes flicking to her lips, Ginny glanced away, realizing that perhaps now was not the best time. Her gaze fell on Malfoy, who looked even less amused.

"Blaise, the Weasel here has a detention to finish," Malfoy's voice had a touch of bitter annoyance in it as he gave his friend a withering look. "So if you're done fraternizing with blood traitors…"

The black-haired boy rolled his eyes at Ginny, making it clear that he found his friend's opinions childish, and began to make his way out of the room, gently maneuvering her out of his way with a hand on her wrist. "Well, Red, I'll be taking my leave," he murmured, nodding to her again, and to Malfoy, as he left.

She was pretty sure she'd never considered her wrist to have quite so many nerve endings before.

* * *

_A/N: So now our favorite black-haired boy is in the mix. And chapters 8-13 have all been completed. Including my favorite so far (12) and a start on the one I'm sure to love just as much (14). Reviews will be responded to with love and adoration and can earn you sneak peeks into upcoming chapters! Chapters should be posted once a night while I'm on this writing streak, but I like to run ideas by people when I'm proud of them. _

_Thanks everyone who's reading, and hope you continue to enjoy!_

_-Turner_


	8. 8: Measuring Up

_A/N: Before tonight's installment, I just want to thank everyone who's been reading, with special thanks to Nutmeg44 for all of the advising, fisherlinda53, Willowcloud, and GreyWolf2907 for the favorites. And without further ado, please enjoy the internal struggles of Draco Malfoy._

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Chapter 8: Measuring Up

Damn Zabini. Draco shot a glare at his so-called best mate, who was eying up the Weasley girl again.

While he didn't hate the prat, he _hated_ the prat.

Draco's cool grey gaze followed his friend's to the redhead. It had been a week since he'd supervised her detention, and – thanks to Blaise – he couldn't get the bitch out of his head, no matter how much he wanted to. Or, perhaps that was a lie. He could get her out of his head for a time, but the girl just kept clawing her way back. She may possibly have been more annoying than ever without even speaking to the blonde.

As the Weaslette tossed her ridiculously ginger-colored head back in laughter at something one of her friends said, Draco felt unreasonably irked. Why was she getting to him so much? It's not like she was that interesting. Her verbal game had been less than impressive as of late, with her insults sounding more like creative observations than true barbs, often coming across more like a self-aware joke than a true put-down, so it couldn't have been something she said. They hadn't even passed one another in the hall as of late. She hadn't really done anything out of the ordinary to upset him. It's not like she should even be all that distracting – she wasn't particularly good-looking.

At that thought, he examined her carefully. No, he'd certainly had better. He'd been with women that were taller, more delicate, graceful things, and girls who'd spent far more time accentuating their feminine assets – skinnier, curvier, or more finely formed. He'd seen prettier shades of brown eyes, more lustrous heads of hair, he'd seen porcelain skin that put her cinnamon-sprinkled complexion to shame. So why was he doubting his own assessment of her?

"So, I saw Red in the corridors yesterday," Blaise mentioned her casually, a smug look on his face as he murmured the words as though making small talk.

"Oh?" Draco tore his glare away from the girl, becoming intensely interested in his beans and toast. "Is she that bad at walking all the time, or was it just in detention?"

Blaise glanced to her. "Oh, she's quite adept at walking. I wouldn't mind watching her do it on a regular basis," he smirked, and Draco didn't need to look at him to tell he was trying to eye her hips through the table.

Draco caught the tone his friend was suggesting, and rolled his eyes. "Give it up, mate. You could do so much better." He speared a bite on his fork, bringing it to his lips, "Besides, she'd never be interested." His tone was bored and nonchalant as he finished off the bite, but Blaise didn't seem to accept that as a reason to back down.

"Precisely." His eyes narrowed, a determination becoming evident in his features. "I like a challenge."

Draco had to look up at that, raising a pristine blonde eyebrow. "She's not exactly a prize," he pointed out, flatly. She had nothing to offer aside from her body, as far as he was concerned, and even that wasn't superior to a few of the sixth and seventh years in their own house.

Blaise shrugged, "I suppose I'm bored, then," he shot back, cockily, a mocking excuse. Before Draco could argue, he added, "_You_ saw her little… mishap during detention. …She's certainly got potential hiding under that uniform," he smirked, and Draco recalled the incident in the book room: the lacy pink bra that covered her pert breasts had been quaint, and the blush that spread down her chest as she scrambled to cover them was even more amusing. And he'd sneaked a peek at the rest of her figure as well, that night. Not a ten out of ten, by any means, but she was probably a seven. Or eight, if given the right accoutrements. ….Perhaps an eight and a half.

"And charisma. She's… entertaining."

While Draco wasn't about to nod, he couldn't really disagree with Zabini there. She was entertaining for one reason or another. Not always witty, perhaps, but she was stubbornly committed to things, which made for an interesting show. Even a comedic train wreck was funny, if in the right context. And her tiny little sneeze had been laughable. He might even call her determination endearing, if he didn't feel slightly nauseous using that word to describe a member of her particular ginger clan. "She's a Weasley," was all he told his black-haired friend in response.

"And the only attractive one among them."

Apparently, Blaise would not be swayed. Draco looked back up to find the Weasley girl grinning mischievously as she charmed strips of bacon to do a little dance over the head of one of her housemates. Alright… she had a nice smile. But that was all he'd concede.

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_A/N: Short chapter, but let it be known that some naturally longer chapters are coming up! The story is written through 16, all ready to post, and the inspiration is staying strong, so expect a post a night for the next week! I'd offer an ultimatum for reviews, but I'd like to think I'm a nicer Slytherin than that. ;D  
_

_-Turner_


	9. 9: I Know What I Did Last Summer

_A/N: Just to warn you, this chapter does include some language eluding to possibly triggering content. A touch of fun, and then it gets a little dark.  
_

_-._

* * *

Chapter 9: I Know What I Did Last Summer

"Oi, Red!"

It wasn't until Ginny heard the footsteps jogging to catch up with her that she realized the boy had been addressing her. She turned, curious to see who might have adopted this new nickname for her, and found herself mirroring the boy's laughing smirk. "Zabini – I have to admit, I didn't think you'd ever be calling me out," she cocked a hip back, shifting her bag over one shoulder as she eyed him with a mix of amusement and suspicion. She'd assumed that night in detention had been a flirtation of convenience – she'd never really expected to talk to him again, although she'd passed him a few times and they'd exchanged smug smirks.

"Well, Weasley, if you hadn't ignored me earlier, I wouldn't have needed to," he jibed, playfully.

Ginny let her confusion show slightly, not entirely sure what he was talking about, but when he shrugged it off, she returned the gesture. "What can I help you with?" she asked, not unkindly, glancing at her watch to see how much time she had before class started.

When she looked back up, he was giving her an incredulous look. "Wasting your time, am I?" he ribbed, and Ginny rolled her eyes but tucked the offending wrist under her bag strap. Once she was satisfactorily refocused on him, he allowed himself to continue, shifting slightly.

Ginny had the distinct feeling that whatever minor adjustment he'd made had brought him much closer to her than he had been a second ago, and she was reminded of how he'd tricked her into an embrace during her detention. She gave him a look that made it quite clear that she saw what he was doing, but didn't explicitly call him out on it. Truth be told, she didn't mind all that much. She liked flirting, just not the male entitlement that tended to go along with it, so she'd lately stopped flirting with most boys. Zabini, though, held no threat. Or, at least, she'd thought he hadn't.

"I'm having a party this weekend."

She raised an eyebrow at that. So much for no threat.

"It'll be in Hogsmeade, so no worries about getting yourself another detention," he shot her a sly grin, his voice lowered as she felt his breath skitter across her skin not unpleasantly, harkening back to the previous detention (which Ginny refused to blush over). When she didn't object, he continued, "Saturday, 9 o'clock, in the dormer across from the Shrieking Shack." He didn't need to say it very loudly, close as he was, but he raised his voice as he began to lean away, "It's a fancy dress party – all sorts are invited." Before she had a chance to ask for any more information, he was already a couple of steps down the hall, "Be there!" He shot her a grin as he pointed to her in mock command, disappearing around the corner.

* * *

That weekend was Halloween. Or, more specifically, that Friday was Halloween. That night the Great Hall was all decked out with pumpkins and candles and streamers and bats, as was the annual tradition. The feast was full of delicious specialties, and the whole Hall seemed jovial. Ginny was prodding at a pumpkin flan as she joked with her friends Natalie Fairborne and Vina Zae, but faltered as she caught a pair of baby blue eyes staring at her from the Ravenclaw table.

Noticing, Vina followed Ginny's gaze. The coffee-skinned girl seemed about to say something to her ginger friend, but frowned at the odd look on Ginny's face. "…Ginny?"

Nat caught on, her straight brown hair whipping around as she snapped her head to look at the object of Ginny's gaze. "Ooh-" she turned back to Ginny, excitedly, and then caught on to the same edginess her friend had noticed. "What's going on with you and Stephen?" She had gone from gossip-happy to concerned, something Ginny would usually appreciate, but the redhead was less eager to share on this particular occasion.

Ginny had smiled tentatively, but then looked away from her… friend? She'd gone slightly pale, which had drawn her housemates' attention. "It's nothing," she waved a hand, dismissively, and tucked in to the flan in front of her.

Vita wasn't put off so easily, resting her elbow on the table as she watched her redheaded friend with unflinching scrupulousness. "Weren't you two flirting a lot at the end of last year?" She asked, carefully, shooting a wary glance over Ginny's head to Nat.

"Yeah," Nat agreed, nodding, her green eyes confused, "you said you'd hung out over the summer before the camping trip, but since school started-"

"We kind of drifted apart," Ginny interrupted them, making it clear she didn't want to talk about it. "I mean, we're still friends," she sounded slightly defensive, as she glanced back at the brown-haired boy, who had returned to laughing with his friends at the Ravenclaw table, "We just don't really hang out much."

The truth behind her relationship with Stephen Cornfoot was a bit more complex, and it was something she'd been trying not to think about. It wasn't all that hard to distract herself, to be honest. She focused her attention on the start of her sixth year, on classes, on fun activities, on books, or games with friends, or quidditch… she just wouldn't think about it. And yet sometimes it crept its way back into her head, and she had to keep reminding herself that they'd settled it, he'd apologized, they'd made their amends, swore it would never happen again, and gone back to being just friends. But when it came to tug at the corners of her subconscious, once a week or so, she drowned out the doubt with insistence of certainty and blatant distractions.

Ginny and Stephen had gotten to know each other around the same time Ginny had met Michael Corner. While Ginny and Michael were dating, she'd occasionally tag along when he was with his fellow Ravenclaws, and that's how Ginny and Stephen got to talking. They'd always had a decent rapport, and actually managed to form a very trusting friendship. The previous summer they'd hung out a lot. Their close friendship, which had always held a small touch of it, began to teeter on the edge of flirtation. They began to share secrets, and their late-night conversations became less and less friendly and more and more… something else.

Then, in late July, when she'd managed to get her parents' permission to go on a camping trip with several of her friends and some of their parents, they'd gotten closer than anticipated. Following a late-night oversharing session of teasing, flirting, and the divulging of sexual fantasies, they'd enjoyed an awkward (though basically enjoyable) snogging session. …Ginny may have possibly gone a bit further. But she had changed her mind partway through and… well, suffice it to say, she woke the next morning conflicted.

She didn't like to think about what happened that night. She didn't go as far with him as she had with Dean last year, so it wasn't that. She just… she just didn't like what she'd done, and she didn't want to think about it.

Her friends shared a concerned glance, but dropped the subject, and Ginny purposefully turned her thoughts elsewhere.

* * *

_A/N: More will come out about the incident between Stephen and Ginny later on in the story. Just to make it clear: Stephen is not a villain! He's a decent, nice guy! The incident in question is rather complex, with guilt carried on both sides, as will be explained later on. _

_And I promise it will lighten up in the next couple of chapters! There's a party to attend, after all!  
_

_Please please please shoot me a review regarding this addition to the story: I want to know how much I should talk about it, or if this little mention was enough._

_Thanks to everyone for reading - Turner_


	10. 10: Party Like it's 1997

Chapter 10: Party Like it's 1997

Truth be told, Ginny didn't often go to parties without her friends. She generally had at least one or two of them with her, whether it was Nat or Vina, or Julie, or Nick or Tanner, or Luna – she would have at least one. Tonight, however, she hadn't been sure who to bring. Luckily, Ginny had heard from Julie who'd heard from Pheli that Loretta Cornhill had been not-so-subtly hinting about being invited to a Halloween party in Hogsmeade, and she'd asked Lottie if she wanted to go together. Which was why she was twiddling her thumbs at the top of the Ravenclaw staircase, waiting for the blonde as the minutes edged well past nine.

Ginny twirled a strand of hair around her finger. She'd contemplated whether or not she should do something to it – maybe some sort of color transmutation, or change of length, or even curling it beyond its natural wave – but she wasn't sure just how much effort to put into this thing. In the end, she'd decided she didn't need all the trimmings. It was a house party, not a ball; no one was going to care all that much.

Finally, after what had felt like forever (though, in reality, had been no more than ten or fifteen minutes), the Ravenclaw sixth year had emerged from the door at the top of the stairs, covered, as Ginny was, with a full-length black cloak that would hide her true intentions from anyone who happened to catch the girls between here and there.

"Sorry about that." The girl sounded anything but, as she flipped her blonde ringlets over her shoulder and began the trek down the seemingly endless tower stairs, without a backward glance to Ginny.

Ginny had never been too fond of Lottie. But the girl was her ally for tonight, so she had to make do.

"So, what's your costume?" Before Ginny could reply, the blonde was already answering her own question, "I'm going as a sweets girl, like the sort you find at the pitch – you _have_ to see my dress, it's absolutely _divine_-"

Ginny really didn't care. But she listened and nodded intently as the girl babbled on, wondering if she even chose the right sort of attire for tonight.

Zabini was known for throwing amazing parties. Ginny just wasn't sure she belonged at one.

* * *

Arriving at the party some ten minutes later (a bit of walking, a bit of flying), Ginny wasn't feeling any more sure of herself. The bash was being held in a two-story dormer house located on the outskirts of Hogsmeade village, just up the hill from the Shrieking Shack. While Ginny could see the lights and people that were inside, it was silent until someone opened the door for them, and the deafening sounds of music and laughter and shouting spilled out into the cool autumn air.

The redhead vaguely recognized the older girl who answered the door, drink in hand, but she couldn't place a name or house. "Come on in!" the girl shouted, beaming, and grabbed Lottie's hand to pull her in, Ginny following behind.

They each shed their cloaks, and Ginny reminded herself she had no need to feel self-conscious. Actually, she was far more covered than many of the girls at the party – and some of the boys. Ginny had dressed as a secretary (about the only fancy dress she could cobble together from her limited wardrobe) in one of Hermione's pencil skirts, a school blouse, and a borrowed pair of reading specs, a quill tucked in her simple bowed Alice band behind her ear.

Next to Lottie's glorified cozzie, Ginny was particularly overdressed and underwhelming.

Luckily, the blonde was out of the way soon enough, already heading to the back patio, where (Ginny assumed) there was some sort of shielded pavilion. Ginny, meanwhile, made her way toward what she hoped was the kitchen.

The party was crowded, and Ginny recognized a few faces here and there, surprised to see some who'd graduated previous years. She had just stepped into the kitchen, when she heard her name called out.

"Ginny!" The girl was all lit up and rosy-cheeked as she pushed through the kitchen to get to the redhead.

"Sabs?" Ginny was surprised to find Sabrina Fawcett grinning at her and pulling her into a tight hug. "I thought you graduated-"

Sabrina tugged a lock of Ginny's ginger hair, "I did, silly, year before last. But when Zabini throws a party, you really don't want to miss it!"

Ginny knew Sabs fairly well, as they'd both grown up near Ottery St. Catchpole, and she'd been friendly enough with her brothers Fred and George, but she hadn't expected such a warm welcome from the girl. As Sabrina narrowly avoided spilling her drink on Ginny, she knew what to attribute the friendliness to. Nonetheless, the familiar face did make her feel a bit more at ease.

"What are we supposed to do here?" The redhead spoke into the brunette's ear, having to shout to be heard over the buzz of the party, unused to such large functions.

Sabrina pushed the cup into Ginny's hands. "Eat, drink, and be merry!"

Well, that couldn't be too much of a challenge, could it?

* * *

_A/N: Thanks to everyone who's read (over 2,300 views!), reviewed, followed, and favorited! The next few chapters that make up the party are some of my fave scenes - hope to get some feedback from you guys as to what you think! And, as before, continued thanks to Nutmeg44 for being my plot trampoline._


	11. 11: Comparing Specs

Chapter 11: Comparing Specs

"Red!" A muscular arm was draping around Ginny's shoulders, but she shrugged it off. To her surprise, Zabini didn't seem to argue. "Glad you showed," he elbowed her, grinning.

She looked up at him, returning his smile, her cheeks rosy from the glass of pumpkin ale she held in her hand. She wasn't sure how (self-filling glasses, perhaps?), but she'd managed three cups of the stuff in the last hour. It made her feel pleasantly fuzzy, but she knew she should hold back on more – for her own safe return home, if nothing else. "It's kinda fun," she admitted. She was trying to look Blaise over, but they weren't in the best light, and she didn't exactly have the sharpest sight at the moment.

Catching her glance, he backed away, holding his shirt out from his body so she could see it.

It fit him well, she noted, appreciatively. The way the white fabric hugged his tan body – oh… _oh dear, Ginny, keep in mind this is a Slytherin._ She glanced doubtfully to her glass, wondering if maybe she'd managed more than three cups. She didn't usually have those sorts of thoughts about Slytherins. Then again, she reasoned, most Slytherins weren't shooting her dazzlingly charming grins while wearing shorts and boat shoes and proudly displaying their well-fit printed t-shirts. What was it even printed as? She narrowed her eyes, and it took a moment for her to interpret the design. When she realized what it was, she let out a little not-so-ladylike snort.

The fabric was printed to resemble the classic boffin* uniform: a button up shirt with a pair of braces*, a bow tie, and a pocket filled with writing implements, a pair of specs similar to those Ginny currently had as part of her costume were printed hanging from the pocket as well. "Well, don't you look the bookish anorak,"* she teased, poking him in the bow tie. "We match," she added, reaching for the specs she'd tucked into the front pocket of her blouse.

She frowned. That was strange. She could've sworn she'd had them when she walked in. She looked down, pulling the fabric of her pocket open, as though they had suddenly shrunken and fallen into the pocket itself. Nope. She pulled the buttons of her shirt away to see if they'd fallen down her shirt. Nope, not there either (though she missed the smirk that move earned from Zabini). "I could've sworn-"

"Here, Red-" he tapped his wand on the printed image on his shirt, and drew the glasses from thin air, "-You can have mine." He leaned against the wall and closer to her, setting the specs on her delicate nose.

She probably looked more awed than was entirely necessary. She was sure she must've seen something like that before, but the pleasant pumpkin fogginess clouding her head certainly made that feat more impressive. The slight 'o' shape her mouth took make the black-haired boy laugh aloud. "I had no idea you were so easily impressed, Weasley," he joked, tapping the bridge of the specs.

The use of her surname brought to mind another Slytherin seventh year, and Ginny wrinkled her nose slightly. "Is Malfoy here?" she asked, seemingly out of nowhere.

Blaise shook his head in incredulous amusement, unable to comprehend how her mind flitted from one thing to another, then shrugged. "Yeah, of course. He's wandering somewhere around-"

"Mentioning me, Bl—?" the blonde faltered as he saw Ginny, who had just opened her mouth in another small 'o,' surprised at the coincidence. He sent a quick glance over her, and had to admit she looked… well, she looked fit. The skirt hugged her curves far better than her robes would, and it had ridden up slightly, making her petite figure appear more long-legged than she usually did. Maybe it was just the firewhiskey he'd been nursing all night, but she looked… decent.

She was eying him incredulously, but not with the same sharp viciousness she usually reserved for their interactions. "Party pooper," she accused with a slight pout, gesturing her glass at him, sloshing a bit over the edge and hurriedly licking it up before it could drip down her wrist.

Draco didn't understand at first. Or maybe he was just distracted by the way her tongue darted out to—no, no, he definitely was having trouble comprehending just what she was- oh. He glanced down and realized she thought he wasn't wearing a costume. Well, in truth, he wasn't. He wasn't exactly the sort to put effort into things like fancy dress parties. "Am not." Even he was surprised by the immature choice of words, though the insolent tone was par for the course.

"Are too," she didn't seem to take enough notice to berate him about it, instead staring at his black-clad chest. "What sort of costume is that supposed to be?" Her tone was accusatory, but held none of the biting anger usually hidden behind her words.

He raised a delicate blonde eyebrow. "I'm Death." _Obviously._ As she stared incredulously, he simply rolled his eyes and took another sip of his whiskey, shaking his head as he walked away.

* * *

_A/N: *Boffin and anorak are both terms for nerds or geeks; braces referring to the kind that hold your trousers up (suspenders), not dental braces._

_Thanks again to Nutmeg44 for letting me run new chapters by her (just finished 20!). I can promise you that next chapter is one of my absolute favorites, wherein we meet drunk!Ginny. Well... drunker than she is in this chapter. _

_While I won't hold the chapter hostage, I can say that the more reviews I get the more likely I am to post the chapter before 3am EST. Just saying. _

_-Turner_


	12. 12: Dancing With Myself

Chapter 12: Dancing With Myself

An hour later, and Ginny was feeling no pain. She was blissfully free of the warnings that had recently been populating her brain whenever members of the opposite sex were around, and that was a good thing, she thought, for now at least.

As the sound of thrumming bass pounded through her body, Ginny had her hands in the air and was swaying and swerving to the music.

Truthfully, she looked a bit ridiculous. But luckily, no one at the party was in any state to point that out, as it had gradually degenerated into a crowd of people participating in very similar movements, and Ginny didn't look nearly as silly as some of them. Maybe it was the smile on her face, the expression that made it clear she didn't care what she looked like because she was having fun. Or maybe it was because her outfit was just less outlandish than the other stupid-looking partiers. Like Lottie, who's costume had collected a few easily-visible stains and spills, and who's dramatic makeup was smeared laughably across her face. In comparison, Ginny looked… she held an innocence and a vivaciousness that made her rather magnetic.

Perhaps that was why someone was dancing up on her, trying to direct her hands around them.

_Nope._

Ginny swatted the hands away, "No thanks, I prefer to dance alone," she was far bubblier than she'd usually be in a situation like that – far more approachable than she'd be sober. Maybe that was why the fellow dancer didn't want to take no for an answer.

"I said," Ginny leaned in so the boy (she didn't recognize him, but thought perhaps he could be an alumni) could hear her, and dug her nails into his shoulder, "No thank you." She very purposefully kicked him in the ankle - almost as if it could've been an accident; not hard enough to break anything, just bruise a little - and spun away. He should probably get the message now. If not, she had developed a great technique for breaking fingers.

"May I?"

This time, when Ginny looked up, she shot a stunning smile at the dark-haired boy who was politely offering a hand as he, too, swayed in that ridiculously silly way all people danced. She laughed, "Sure, Zabini." If she'd been more sober, she might've thought longer about it, but she was drunk and he was asking nicely, and for some reason she just didn't get the same vibe from him. Perhaps she was just so perfectly aware of his intentions that she didn't feel he was hiding anything. He wanted to flirt with her. Maybe sleep with her. But he would never seriously try to pass off something else as his purpose. So, in that way, he was more decent than most boys she'd met.

As they danced together, Ginny enjoying the music and Blaise behind her, enjoying Ginny's enjoyment, she piped up, "You know I won't sleep with you, right?"

Blaise grinned as he slipped an arm around her waist, gently, "Who ever said I wanted to-"

He couldn't even finish the sentence before Ginny had burst out laughing, nearly doubling over briefly. "Oh, that's a good one," she was practically snorting, but the less-than-graceful behavior seemed to fit her less-than-smooth persona.

"You, Miss Weasley, are delightful," there was a bit of a playful growl in his voice as he pushed her hair to one side, chuckling as he traced his lips along her ear, teasingly, his hand still holding her waist against him.

"And you, Mr. Zabini," she mocked his tone, "Are getting ahead of yourself." Her hand delicately plucked his from her waist, finger by finger, as she peeled herself away from him. She kept a hold of his hand, making it clear she wasn't pushing him to get away from her, as she turned to face him, both of them still moving to the music, just farther apart.

He took advantage of her hand in his to spin her, but didn't try to pull her against him again. A vague look of recognition lit in her eyes, and she seemed almost impressed, though it was hidden behind a cloudy fog of drunkenness. "Thanks."

He wasn't sure what she was thanking him for, but he smirked, "You're welcome."

They'd been dancing together for another two songs before Ginny cozied up to him again, of her own volition.

"I thought you weren't interested?" He murmured, a smug smirk lighting up his lips as she placed his hands on her waist, keeping her hands on his to prevent them from wandering.

"I'm not."

"Oh?" He threaded his fingers through hers, and moved so her head brushed against his collarbone, "So what do you think you're doing?"

He didn't need to see her face to know she was smiling mischievously. "Enjoying myself."

Blaise laughed at that, but quietly, as he was so close to her ear. "You certainly are, you little tease," he nudged her away, and she let him spin her before pulling her back to the same embrace. "And how do you know I won't do anything about it?"

Ginny's words were filled with a devious delight, "Because some day…" she turned in his arms, looping her hands around his neck and standing on tip toe to speak into his ear; "I might let you."

* * *

_A/N: *sigh* One of my personal favorite exchanges I've written of them. ...Apart from chapters 21-2, that is. But those chapters are a while off, so you'll all just have to wait. Unless I start getting some reviews. I have so much written, I might not mind posting two chapters a day. (Hint hint)_

_Once again, thanks to Nutmeg44 for reading through the new stuff and letting me squeal over the Slytherin boys in all their sexiness. And thanks to everyone who's read, reviewed, favorited, and followed._

_-Turner_


	13. 13: Party Down

Chapter 13: Party Down

Draco was staring. He couldn't really help it; it was something he never thought he'd see. The Weasley girl… looking admittedly fit… whispering in Blaise's ear? He had to be imagining things. Blaise, of all people?

Then again, girls did tend to fawn over him, just as they did with Draco. It was like they didn't care what a hedonistic self-absorbed ass he was.

Any hypocrisy in that thought was completely lost on Draco.

He looked back into his drink, and suddenly became aware that he had been talking with someone. The girl - dressed as what Draco interpreted to be some sort of sexy animal - was still blathering away, her words grating on him with each passing minute. Honestly, as though he cared at all about her sister's wedding…

"I'm going to go get a drink," he interrupted her, putting a hand on her leotard-clad shoulder.

"But-" the girl looked at his well-stocked glass, her moderately attractive face twisted in confusion, but he was already using his conveniently placed hand to scoot her out of his way.

"Nice to meet you." His words were polite, but dismissive, as he pushed by.

"But-" she faltered again, her voice disappearing in the crowd as he left her, "-we've known each other all term!"

* * *

Draco was filling his glass for the… he didn't know how much he'd had to drink, but it couldn't have been that much: he could still remember this weekend's assignments without strain, and wasn't having the urge to get into a fight for no particular reason. Hesitating as he tipped the bottle, he halted. Fuck this. Dropping the whiskey bottle, and pouring the rest of his own glass straight down his throat, he grabbed up a bottle of spiced rum. Once the fire had cleared from his throat, he raised it above the crowd as he turned to bellow out over the attendees; "Who wants shots?!"

There was something amazingly powerful about being the man with the bottle (or bottles, in Draco's case). Somehow, everyone wanted you and no one really cared how nice you were to them. It was like a dream come true, to some extent. Girls practically kneeling before him for a maple syrup shot… yeah, there was definitely a power trip that Draco thoroughly enjoyed.

The party was well into phase three as the clock hands ticked past midnight, with the house the most packed it'd been all night. Everyone was drinking and dancing and laughing and shouting. Draco had spotted Pansy out on the smoking deck, her hands disappearing down the front of Niles Hanley's trousers, and Theo Nott was seemingly doing well chatting with Tracey Davis (their on-again/off-again relationship was notoriously heated). Everyone he spotted seemed to be having a good time.

As he surveyed the party, Draco's eyes found Blaise out on the dance floor, greeting an old friend with an overly-familiar kiss on the lips. Draco began to wonder where the Weaslette had disappeared to.

He pushed through the crowd to his best mate. "Zabini-" he nudged his friend with one of the bottles, drawing his attention away from the girl he'd just greeted.

"Draco-" Blaise glanced at the bottles, not at all bothered by the intrusion, as his newly greeted friend took the cold shoulder in stride, melting into the crowd, away from the two boys. "Whatcha got?"

The blonde shook his head with a smirk, "Only rum and buttershots, I'm afraid–" as Blaise reached for the rum, Draco pulled it away, a smug look on his face. He lowered his voice; "I thought you were more in the mood for a redheaded slut." He raised an eyebrow, questioningly.

Despite the several drinks that had the black-haired boy slightly glazed over, he caught on quickly, and smirked back cockily. "And where did our delicious delinquent scamper off to?" he asked, jovially, slinging an arm around Draco in what Draco might've correctly guess to be a height-augmentation tactic, trying to see over the crowd into the kitchen.

It was precisely at that moment that Draco spotted the ginger-colored hair heading toward the stairs to the basement. Without a second thought, he looked back to Blaise and said, smoothly, "No idea. Maybe the living room?" He wasn't exactly sure why he was lying. He just knew that he didn't want Blaise getting in the way.

_In the way? Of what?_ He couldn't even answer his own thoughts as he patted Blaise's shoulder, sending him toward the living room as the blonde made his way to the stairs.

He hesitated at the top, and took a swig of rum straight from the bottle before leaving the drinks on a table and heading down. He wasn't sure what he was planning. But he knew the Weasley girl, just like any girl he'd ever set his sights on, wouldn't be able to resist. And once he'd dealt with her, he could finally get her out of his head.

* * *

_A/N: Wowza, seems like everyone loves a certain flirtatious gentleman-cad. Thanks to She Who Must Not Be Tamed and GreyWolf2907 for the reviews, and to the new followers! I like two new reviews (and I'm going to be crazy busy tomorrow driving to school and may not be able to post), so I've decided today to post TWO new chapters. _

_Enjoy!_

_-Turner_

_Oh, and fun fact: Never watched Party Down until I decided to name this chapter, then I watched two seasons in two days. Great show, by the way. _


	14. 14: Still Not Asking For It

Chapter 14: Still Not Asking For It

Ginny had decided to try the basement for a break from the loud music and closely-pressed bodies. While one of those things was missing in the basement, the other… was basically everywhere. Ginny had assumed everyone who'd wanted a little privacy had made their way upstairs, but apparently there hadn't been room for them all, as nearly every secluded corner apart from the refreshments table was sheltering snogging couples. Still, it was quieter. And - ooh!

The redhead looked down both sides of the little refreshments table. Hm… No spoons, no forks, just tiny toasts. She wrinkled her nose. Nope, she was doing this old school. She glanced around quickly, just to make sure no one was looking, glad to be right at the corner of dessert table and wall, and then scooped a dollop of the hazelnut chocolate spread onto her finger and popped it in her mouth.

"Mmmm…" She closed her eyes, borne away on clouds of chocolaty goodness, but opened them as she heard someone clearing their throat pointedly to her left.

She turned. Slowly. Finger still between her lips. Her coffee-colored eyes were surprised as she looked up to find-

Her finger popped from her mouth in surprise, "Malfo-?!"

The word wasn't even out of her mouth before he'd backed her up against the wall, a hand on either side of her, pinning her there.

Her drinks had her processing speed at a fraction of what it usually was. She was still trying to figure out just what was happening – but she wasn't about to let that yumminess go to waste. She popped her finger back into her mouth, looking up at him in confusion, her eyes wide and innocent. She was quite aware that she had room to slip away if she really needed to (on one side of her, anyway) – or, she could probably hit him in a weak spot if necessary. But she wasn't really sure why he was there.

Her finger slipped from her lips and she examined it, licking off the remains as she looked up at him again and asked, with pure curiosity; "What do you want, Malfoy?"

She didn't notice the way his eyes had glared at her finger, as though he might burn it off. Still, his anger – no, not anger just… annoyance. Maybe frustration? – was hard to miss. "What's your game, Weasley?"

Ginny looked at him calmly, incredulous, still cleaning off the chocolate spread. "Well," she licked her finger again, then popped it from her mouth and examined it, satisfied that all the yumminess was gone. "I like Nutella." She had her eyes (foggy as they were from the drinking) leveled on him coolly, her voice well coated with sarcasm.

He scowled, drawing even closer to her, and Ginny stiffened, but kept her face aloof and her chin held high. He was so close now, she could smell the mix of whiskey and rum and… and that spicy _male_ness he seemed to carry. His frustration seemed to heat the air around him. He had a hand on either side of her arms, and now one foot had stepped between her own as she was pushed – by sheer force of intimidation – up against the wall.

"You know what I mean."

His voice was practically a growl, and his breath was skittering down her neck. She felt her skin prickling as the hair on the back of her neck rose, goosepimples suddenly crawling across her skin. "Actually, I don't think I do," she murmured, defiantly, glaring up at him. If he thought he could intimidate her into anything, he was sorely mistaken.

Malfoy looked irked, and glanced down. "This," his hand ran along the collar of her blouse, and Ginny froze. She refused to react. She stopped breathing, eyes blazing warningly, as his fingers brushed against the skin of her neck, trailing down until they hit a closed button. But he didn't stop there, his fingers starting up again from the other end, brushing against her thigh as he tugged at the hem of her skirt. "This _getup_."

She wasn't so drunk as to let him continue. Maybe in some situations, for some people, this could be hot. But the key element of permission was missing here. She had so much to say, she couldn't pick just one thing. So she bit her tongue until she could calm herself enough to be coherent.

When she finally spoke, she had difficulty keeping her words even. "This _'getup,'_" she spat, "is a _costume_. Because we're at a _costume party_. It is by no means an invitation for anyone to just start putting their hands on me." When his hand still hadn't moved from where it rested at the hem of her skirt, she went for it. As if reflexively, he tightened his hold on her, so she grabbed the back of his hand, close to his wrist. "If you do not get your hands off of me, I _will_ hurt you."

He sneered. "Is that a thr-"

Her grip had dug in and twisted, and she felt the pop before he was clutching his wrist, hissing between his teeth.

"_Fuck_ Weasley, what the hell?!"

She didn't run away from him. She wouldn't flee in fear. She had no fear. She stood her ground right from where he'd backed her into a corner. "Maybe you don't understand the concept, Malfoy." She coolly drummed her fingers against where his hand had been. "Just because someone is cooking food doesn't mean you're entitled to eat it. Just because a banker is counting money doesn't mean you're being given free money." Her words were burning with acidic mockery. "And just because a person is wearing a _skirt_ doesn't give you the right to touch them."

He looked as though he might argue, so she cut him off. "You aren't entitled to someone else's body just because it's exposed."

"I never said I-"

"You didn't have to." He always felt entitled to something. He was a Malfoy.

Holding her head high, Ginny walked right past him, purposefully nudging him with her shoulder as she passed. She halted, though, and turned to look at the table before glancing at Malfoy. Looking back to the table, she grabbed the spread she'd been so enjoying. "…This is coming with me," she muttered, blushing slightly, her drunk brain gladly taking over after all that tension, and walked away confidently, another fingerful of Nutella popped in her mouth.

* * *

_A/N: Hell yeah, feminist Ginny! Truth be told, the title and the 'just because' segment are taken from an image that has been passed around the internet that features a photo from a protest and comments that were posted on that picture. _

_You can find the image here (removing the spaces and parentheses) lokisbruid. files. wordpress. (com/) 2013/11/ still_not_asking_for_it . jpg  
_

_Sorry for the hassle; I'm sure you all know how hard it is to link anything on fanfictionnet._

_-Turner_


	15. 15: Grattitude and Attitude

Chapter 15: Gratitude and Attitude

There were times Ginny knew exactly why she did things. Most of the time, really. But as she walked away from Malfoy and crested the stairs, steadily growing lighter and lighter; and took a deep swig from the bottle of rum waiting at the top; and sashayed right up to Zabini; she was only about 50% sure of anything.

"Dance with me," she demanded, placing her tub of chocolate spread on the nearest end table as she sucked her last helping from her finger.

"Gladly." It didn't take much to distract Blaise from where he'd been standing, chatting with some of the other party guests, and soon they were lost in the crowd on the dance floor, pulling no more attention than any other drunken couple.

This time quite consciously aware of any implications her actions held, she caught his eyes as she pushed her finger into her mouth slowly, her other hand encircling his waist in one sinuous movement. She was being reckless, maybe, but she felt like rewarding the black-haired Adonis as she pulled herself closer to him, and he put his arms around her waist as well.

He was smirking, mouth slightly open, eyebrows raised in amazed disbelief, as though he could hardly imagine his fortune. "What's the occasion?" He murmured, as she swayed her hips against his, the look in her eyes more than enough to seduce him. Then again, Blaise was easily seduced.

She grinned, wickedly, as her delicate finger popped from her mouth. "I just wanted to thank you," she returned the murmur, her free hand roaming back to his chest and tugging at the neck of his shirt, entreating him to duck his head. Her other finger rested by the side of her face as she smirked, and she saw his eyes dart to it. He hesitated, but she didn't move away, even as she suspected what might come, and the next thing she knew she had the very odd – yet somehow incredibly erotic – sensation of his mouth closing around her finger.

_I can see why guys like it,_ she mused, biting her lip as she held Blaise's gaze, the black-haired boy humming throatily as his tongue licked every bit of sweetness that remained. She suddenly found herself quite warm. Really, the way her pulse was throbbing through her, all she wanted was a cup of ice. Or… okay, maybe that wasn't _all_ she wanted.

"For what?" Blaise's voice was a playful growl as he released her hand, letting go of her just long enough to magic away the sticky residue, quietly.

_For not being Malfoy_. "For everything." Ginny had the slight feeling in the back of her mind that she wasn't exactly sober enough to be making these decisions, so she didn't do precisely what she wanted, instead ducking and turning her head and resting it against his chest. "For asking." Her body was caught between wanting to grab hold of someone, and wanting to fall asleep, but her self-control was reminding her one was definitely less cause for regret than the other.

His chuckle was a comfortable rumble where her ear pressed to his chest, and Ginny closed her eyes, letting out a tired, satisfied "mmm…" as she clasped her hands together behind him, almost childishly.

It took Blaise a while to say anything, and he only answered her after a beleaguered sigh. "….You're practically dead on your feet, Red." He traced his hands down her arms and unclasped them, gently. "Who did you come with? We should get you back to school."

She tilted her head to look up at him, eyelids heavy as the combined intoxications of time, alcohol, chocolate, and Blaise all acted at once.

He hesitated as she held her face just inches from him. "Red…" he sounded almost apologetic, as though warning her off of something, but he couldn't seem to complete the warning, the words hanging unspoken.

"I'm… not… going… to kiss you…" she muttered, the sleepiness creeping into her voice, as she looked up at him from under heavy eyes. She added, with a tired but still teasing smile; "…tonight."

He chuckled at that. "Well, I look forward to seeing you sober, then." His voice was wry but gentle, and he held an arm around her waist to lead her out of the crowd as she began to stumble a bit, that last drink finally wreaking its havoc.

* * *

He didn't get it. Draco just… he couldn't comprehend how she could be throwing herself at his best mate and rejecting…

_I don't want her, anyway. She's just a filthy blood traitor._ The words he thought didn't make him feel any better as he leaned against the top of the stairs, watching the redhead getting cozy with his friend on the dance floor. He didn't really think that way. Maybe he had, at some point, but enough backtalk from people he actually respected had made him question why he held those beliefs to begin with. After realizing that it was mostly bullshit fed to him by the uptight pricks that were his father and his father's friends, Draco had started to adjust his feelings on the matter. Spending time with Blaise, who had basically indoctrinated him into his own practically hedonistic lifestyle, had further broken down his opinions on blood superiority.

Of course, pure bloods were still better, in his opinion, but blood status wasn't the be-all and end-all of someone's worth. And this whole 'traitor' business…

While the Weasley's were a detestable bunch, they weren't exactly 'traitors.' Arthur Weasley was a nutcase, and his family was a jumble of madmen and hotheads, not worth Draco's time. But if they weren't worth his time as allies, they certainly weren't worth his energy as enemies, either. His ongoing feud with Potter's mate was mostly out of habit and for entertainment.

Still…. Why was the Weasley girl's rejection so goddamn frustrating?

He couldn't look away as he saw the redhead with her arms around Blaise, looking up, her gaze so obviously on his lips as she said something. It was like he was watching a train wreck in slow motion. He could already sense the inevitability of the kiss even as…

Wait, they weren't kissing. Blaise had his arm around her, walking her off the dance floor, and they hadn't kissed. If that had been Draco, he surely would've had her-

The words couldn't form in Draco's mind, even as the concept drifted through his head: maybe she'd had a point.

* * *

_A/N: I'll be driving all day today, but look forward to a chapter tomorrow - hopefully. If I'm not too busy moving in._

_-Turner_


	16. 16: Analytics

Chapter 16: Analytics

The redhead smiled sleepily as she snuggled herself under the covers, her sigh the embodiment of contentment.

Blaise had tried to find her friend, but the blonde girl Ginny had named had stumbled out the door with Fawley just minutes after the redhead had pointed her out to him. So he'd resigned himself, and helped her up the stairs to one of the rooms he'd already designated for those too drunk to get home that night. Being too lazy to go all the way down the enchanted hallway to find a free room (having held parties at this house for a few years now, he'd invested enough to make sure the accommodations were plentiful), he'd opened the closest door and cheerfully kicked out the couple that had been snogging in the corner. He'd directed her to bed, but was still eager to return to his party.

"Wait-" Her hand was reaching out from beneath the fluffy down comforter, grabbing at the hem of his shirt and tugging it back toward her.

She was sloshed.

He sighed and took a couple of steps back toward her, sitting on the edge of the bed with an incredulous smirk. "What, Weasley?" He was wary of trashed girls. They were a bit of a mess – even if they were a cute mess, like the redhead who was smiling goofily up at him from the crisp white bed.

She was quiet for a moment or two. "…Goodnight, Blaise." Her head was lolling to the side as she smiled at him, her fingers clumsily stepping their way up his chest as she bit her lip obviously, his fake specs askew on her petite freckled nose.

He couldn't help the chuckle of amusement as he pushed her hand away, and he leaned over to pull her glasses off, folding them and setting them on the bedside table. "Goodnight, Weasley," he murmured sarcastically, watching her arm drunkenly dangle off the edge of the bed as he stood, her eyes closing happily. The black-haired boy shook his head in disbelief as he turned away, heading out the door.

He blinked a few times, cocking his head to the side as he raised an eyebrow. "Draco?" He looked to his friend questioningly, taking in the frustrated pout on the blonde's generally stoic face.

Draco was glaring at the now sleeping redhead, nursing a glass of something – rum, bourbon, scotch; whatever it was, it was assuredly alcoholic. He was leaned against the door frame, arms crossed over his chest, looking quite bitter. "…She called you Blaise."

He must've really been listening, to hear that little muttering from here. "Yeah," Blaise shrugged, closing the door behind him, "So?"

"Why's she calling you Blaise?"

The black-haired boy snorted at his friend's accusatory tone. "Because that's my name?" He suggested, sarcastically, locking the door with a charm to keep out drunken party-goers. Blaise shook his head at his friend's childish tone, and began to walk back toward the stairs. When he glanced back to the blonde, his friend was still looking as though he were enjoying some sort of inner tantrum. "Jealous, Draco?"

The blonde shot his so-called friend a look of pure scathing venom. "Fuck off, Zabini."

If anything, Blaise's smirk grew, and the two boys made their way back toward the party. "I told you, Draco: it's my thing. Girls love me for it." He was calling over his shoulder, loud enough to be heard over the music and the crowd.

"You're a clit-tease, you mean," the blonde snarked, rolling his eyes as Blaise shot a dazzling smile at a girl dressed as a 'sexy quidditch player.'

His friend turned on a dime, and Draco nearly ran into his smug grin. "Precisely," Blaise muttered, quietly, tapping the blonde's nose and looking incredibly satisfied with himself. He held himself there for a moment, blatantly invading Draco's personal space, and the blonde realized this was another of his power games. It was only after Draco's brow began to furrow into a scowl that Blaise pulled away, laughing.

"_Your_ game, Draco-" he pointed out, leading his friend steadily through the party, surveying it for something that might catch his interest, "-is the authority figure."

The blonde narrowed his eyes at his friend, suspicious and a bit out of his element, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well," Blaise grabbed a bottle from the kitchen counter as they walked by, and leaned against a wall, popping it open against the edge of a nearby table. "You have this dominant vibe going on," he explained. "Like, you're the one girls want to put them in their place." He wasn't looking at his friend, instead gazing over the party as he took a swig from the bottle. "Girls want you to boss them around and take control."

Draco felt a slight blush rising on his cheeks, and worked to calm it. He hadn't really thought of it that way before… he didn't really like analyzing himself like this. He refused to even glance at Zabini, facing slightly away from him and taking a slow sip of his liquor. "…" He didn't say anything to stop his friend from continuing, but didn't encourage it either.

"Now me-" Blaise mussed his own dark hair, and shared his patented swoon-worthy grin. "I can pull that off, if she's into it," he shrugged, "But I'm more the sort who's there for fun. You promise them something that gets their blood pumping: I promise them a good time."

The blonde shifted uncomfortably. While they'd shared casual details of their hookups, he was a little put off by the amount of thought his friend had put into this. "What are you getting at?" There must've been a point to this conversation beyond just making Draco squirm – then again, Zabini himself never denied his love of making others squirm.

"My point is, Draco: Red doesn't need someone to tell her what to do." His tone was bright and simple, with just a touch of smugness making his golden eyes glint. "Given a taste, she's more comfortable setting her own boundaries, and I'm happy to let her make the moves." His wolfish grin was just a step short of gloating.

Draco looked to his hands, running a finger around the edge of his glass and thinking. He had wanted this little flight of fancy with the Weasley girl to be done by now. He'd wanted to figure her out and dismiss her. Snog her, maybe, or shag her if necessary, but just the once, just enough to get her out of his head. Apparently, it wouldn't be so easy.

* * *

_A/N: Just_ _sending out a quick thanks to all of the readers, followers, favorite-rs, and reviewers! I really really love reviews, so extra brownie points to anyone willing to drop me a line on what they think of the story so far!_


	17. 17: Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus

_A/N: This story has hit 5000 views! Thanks to everyone for reading!  
_

* * *

Chapter 17: Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus

Draco had woken up feeling as though a whole quidditch league had been bombarding him with bludgers. Luckily, he always kept his own particular mix of potions handy for the morning after a Blaise party: a three-vial concoction of hangover remedy, pepper-up potion, and good strongly flavored coffee. He figured it had done the equivalent of saving his life several times now, given his usual zombie-esque post-party hangover state.

He'd left Blaise's party at ten on Sunday morning after a meager night of sleep hounded by doubt and anger. Now, as his watch read just after 11:15, he was scooting eggs around on his plate as he sat for Sunday brunch in the Great Hall. His post-party potion solution had done nothing to lighten his mood.

….What if she was right? What if the insolent ginger was actually right about him? Was he entitled?

Hurriedly, he mentally countered that his position _did_ entitle him to certain things – inheriting the Malfoy estate, for instance, or being invited to particular balls and weddings, or being betrothed—

Oh. Was that what she meant, when she called him entitled? That he thought he deserved a woman who-

Draco was scowling, brow furrowed heavily. He'd thought that hangover remedy had cleared his mind, so why did he have such a headache? He closed his eyes, resting his forehead on his palm, his elbow on the Slytherin table as his right hand played idly with his fork. He let out a heavy sigh.

He was a Malfoy. Malfoys deserved the best.

Then again, did he ever feel anyone _deserved_ his attention? Beyond the politeness afforded by a title, did he ever really think he owed someone his friendship or trust? That sort of thing was earned, wasn't it?

But girls… they were girls! They were lucky to get attention from him!

_Oh Merlin, Draco, are you really that much of an ass?_

He groaned, unsure what to think right now.

"I thought you never got hangovers anymore? What happened, forgot to brew your potions before the party?" Blaise was far too chipper for someone recovering from an incredibly late night rager.

Draco shook his head, looking more irritated than pained. "As if I brew my own—" Damn, was that what she meant, too? He slammed his fork down on the table. It was like she wouldn't get out of his head! She had made herself a nice little roost there and was pecking at his every thought! "_Fuck!_" He slapped his open palms down on the table and immediately regretted it, hissing in pain and clenching his stinging hands into fists.

"Mr. Malfoy!" Professor McGonagall - always passing at the most inopportune time, the stuck up cunt – looked highly offended as she called him out, "Ten points from Slytherin!"

"Oh fuck you, woman," Draco mumbled under his breath, darkly, folding his head under his arms as Blaise snickered with glee.

"I'm fairly sure _she's_ not the one you want to fuck," the black-haired boy murmured, smoothly, poking lightly at the back of his friend's platinum blond head.

Draco grumpily swatted at the boy's hand. "_Draco dormiens nunquam titillandus_, you git."

Blaise raised an eyebrow at the Latin, but remained frustratingly bright. "I don't think I follow."

The blond raised his icy gaze and glared with a look that felt as though it might burn off his friend's face. No such luck, however. Finally, when Blaise seemed none the worse for wear after a solid fifteen seconds of glaring, Draco huffed, waving off the comment – as though Blaise actually cared what he meant at all. "What's got you in such a good mood?" He asked, warily, turning his attention to torturing his potatoes.

Blaise shrugged. "Nothing, really."

Draco leveled a cold grey stare at the boy. He'd never heard such an unbelievable lie. Especially from Blaise; his lies were frequent, but believable. "As bright and charming as you usually are," he droned, wryly, "I have a hard time believing you'd be this irritatingly chipper over nothing."

The black-haired boy smirked. "Nothing you need to worry your pretty little head over," he corrected himself, cockily. "Just a little arrangement I've made with our friend Berrow."

Berrow? Darius Berrow, the fifth year prefect? What did he have to do with-

Draco glanced around, but couldn't spot the smarmy bugger anywhere. He turned narrowed eyes to Blaise. "What sort of 'arrangement?'" He questioned, suspiciously.

Blaise shrugged. "Like I said: nothing to worry your pretty little head over." He pushed Draco's plate toward the blond, "Eat up, mate."

* * *

Ginny was furious.

She'd woken happily, thanks to the hangover remedy that had been placed next to her guest bed by some considerate house elf, and had even enjoyed the trip back to the castle from Hogsmeade, despite having to return wearing the same outfit she'd worn the night before. But she'd barely made it back inside the castle before some obnoxious prick of a Slytherin prefect had found it appropriate to announce that she smelled of liquor and had given her a detention!

Fucking Slytherins.

When she'd argued that she most certainly did not, he'd warned her that he didn't want to argue with her, and threatened a second detention on top of the first if she didn't go 'clean herself up' that instant.

Only once she was out of his sight did she send the Bat Bogey hex around the corner at him. The uppity git, threatening her! And him, a year younger than her, thinking he could just go tossing out detentions left and right on the Sunday of Halloween weekend? …Smarmy bugger. Her only real solace was the hope that someone decent would be in charge of this weekend's detention.


	18. 18: Cosmic Conspiracy

Chapter 18: Cosmic Conspiracy

He had an overwhelming sense that the correct move in this particular situation was to apologize. And it was the fact that he didn't want to that made him really think it was necessary.

Unfortunately, apologies were not Draco's forte. His usual method of apology was… well, in simplistic terms: throw money at it until it went away.

Which was why he was sitting, drumming his slender fingers against his desk as he stared at the blank parchment before him.

Finally, he leaned forward and recklessly scribbled a few words on the parchment and folded the note into an envelope. He glanced around his room until he found something suitably valuable to give to the redhead (though he'd have to find a replacement birthday gift for Parkinson), and bundled the note and gift up, tucking them into his pocket as he exited his dormitory, en route to the Owlery.

* * *

"The bloody git…" Ginny was fuming, walking back to her bed as she read the scrap of parchment that had arrived via school owl just moments ago.

"What?" Natalie looked up from where she was lounging across the window seat, closing her textbook over one finger and looking glad for the distraction.

Ginny hopped onto her bed and scrunched the paper into a ball, tossing it to the brunette. "Some Slytherin prefect gave me a detention for no bloody reason – guess who's supervising." She scowled, flopping backwards and kicking her heels against her bed frame.

There was the crinkle of parchment as Nat flattened out the note, but a wry voice popped up from the other side of the girls' dormitory. "Snape?" Julie Parkes was tossing and catching her hairbrush repeatedly as she looked over to the redhead.

Nat nodded at the same time as Ginny groaned. "Like my day had to have the worst ending possi-" She was cut off by another tapping on the window. "Seriously?"

Nat took pity on the redhead and got up to open the window for her. "Did you by any chance get two detentions?" She asked, carefully, not wanting to invoke the Weasley wrath.

But Ginny was frowning at the bird. It wasn't one of the school's, but an eerily expressive sooty owl who'd come in practically silently, swooping to perch on the edge of Ginny's bed. And it had a package.

Ginny closed the window and slipped the little box from the owl's leg. She was tempted to open it, but went for the envelope first. To her surprise, the note was written on parchment with a Malfoy crest.

_Weasley,_

_Sorry._

_-DM_

She was incredibly confused. Sorry? For- oh…

She turned her eyes back to the box. Honestly, she wasn't sure she trusted it. What if it was cursed? What if it was some disembodied limb (well, given the size, perhaps a finger)? Or a bug? She'd bet a hundred galleons Malfoy would send her any of those things before—

Well, that wasn't what she'd been expecting.

"Holy hell, Ginny, who sent you _those_?" Natalie's eyes had widened as Ginny had opened the box to find two magnificently wrought silver earrings, tiny green stones accenting the tips of downward-pointing triangles.

As the brunette took the box from her friend, examining them, Ginny looked anything but pleased. Her face, which had frozen in confusion at the gift, had begun to twist into anger. "What kind of bullshit bribe is that supposed to be? He thinks he can buy me, now?" She folded her arms angrily over her chest, jaw jutted out defiantly. "Like Weasleys are just _so impressed_ by anything _pretty_ or _expensive_ that all he has to do is just… just…" To the surprise of her roommates, she let out a frustrated sound somewhere between a scream and a grunt. "It's like some grand scheme to ruin my weekend!" she fumed, "Like: Hey, Ginny, thought you'd get some work done on Sunday? Well, bloody NOPE!"

"Merlin, Ginny – calm down," Julie looked stunned at her friend's almost manic sarcasm. "It's just a detention."

She had a point. But Ginny wasn't about to acknowledge that point as valid while her roommates sat around ooh-ing and ahh-ing at Malfoy's… _hush money! _How could he try to buy her off like that? Just looking at the expensive jewelry made her want to squirm. She had to return them. She couldn't let him think that she was some money-grubbing flip-flopper, willing to give up her opinions just because some rich ass gave her something shiny. She rifled madly through her rucksack, pulling out parchment and tearing a strip off on which she might jot her return message.

"What are you-"

"I'm giving them back," she muttered, angrily, rolling up her message and tying it to the owl's leg again (her roommates were impressed by the owl's ability to remain calm with the frantic redhead muttering as she tied it on).

"What?! _Why?_"

Ginny glared at Nat, who seemed to be taking the return as a personal affront. Once she was on the receiving end of Ginny's death stare, however, Nat seemed to be changing her tune.

"Erm, I mean… of course." She muttered, just a touch of bitterness in her voice as she shut the box and handed the earrings over.

Julie still looked slightly confused. "I don't get it, Gin. It's not like he's your friend – he can afford the loss, why not make him pay?" She was leaning against one of the posts of her bed, observing the scene calmly, now twirling the brush in her hand.

"Because…" Ginny actually hesitated. "It's the principle of the thing." In reality, it was more logistics. She'd accepted gifts from people she didn't like before. But she needed to make it clear to Malfoy that she wasn't some commodity to be bought and sold. As she straightened out her reasoning, she shook her head. "If I don't give them back, he'll never believe me."

"And you need his validation?"

"No!" Ginny immediately balked. She didn't need _anyone_'s validation. "…It's just such a hassle." She shrugged, feeling ever so slightly defeated.

Julie leveled her eyes on Ginny, but finally nodded. Nat sighed. She'd obviously wished to keep the bribe.

* * *

_Malfoy:_

_Outside the broom closet by the Great Hall, 6:15pm_

_I don't want your bribes_

_-Ginny_

* * *

_A/N: Update: I have 25 chapters written and have now started classes! Turns out, I have a bunch of work to do cause classes. And I also have two writing-heavy classes (one of which is screenwriting) that I'll be spending a lot of time on. I will return to the 'only post on days I write something' schedule. _

_And you know what would help me get motivated to write something? Reviews! Let me know what you want to see more of, what you think needs explaining, what you're curious about, or any ideas you have! I love reviews!_

_-Turner_


	19. 19: A Stubborn Refusal

Chapter 19: A Stubborn Refusal

Ginny was checking her watch impatiently. She actually wanted a chance to eat dinner before her 7:30 detention. She'd been pacing around in front of the broom closet for eight minutes now, and the despicable blond was nowhere in sight. It was 6:22.

Of course. Of course he'd do something like this – refusing to accept her refusal. How very Malfoy. The prick.

She was flipping the box open and closed anxiously, the clap of the closure oddly satisfying, when she heard steady footsteps coming toward the little side hallway. Sure enough, there he was: the ferret himself.

As soon as he was close enough to reach out, she thrust the box toward him. "Take it back, Malfoy," she insisted, the impatience audible in her voice, as well as the stubbornness.

He glanced down at her outstretched hand, slowing his (already unrushed) strides, and finally coming to a full stop a few inches short of her fingers. His expression had gone from cautiously neutral to irked. "You want me to say I'm not sorry?" He asked. It was obvious he was trying to hold back his sneer.

The redhead wanted to fold her arms across her chest, but the earrings were still there, the box feeling heavy in her hand, as he refused to take it. "Well you aren't," her voice was a bit more snarky than usual, her eyes narrowing to a glare. "Just take them back; I'm not about to be bought off." She pushed the box toward him again, and he instinctively took a step back.

He looked from the box to her, seeming to be calculating something. Finally, as though he just couldn't resist, a smirk appeared on his lips. "Why would I need to buy you off?" He took a couple of steps and leaned against the wall opposite the closet, his arms crossing over his chest as he drew a foot up to rest against the wall, the picture of nonchalance. "You were the one who sprained my wrist."

She looked to the aforementioned wrist, but it seemed perfectly alright. She was expecting some smarmy comment about how _she_ should be apologizing to _him_, but none came. So Ginny furrowed her brow in suspicious confusion, looking back to his face. "You-" She was starting to doubt herself, now. She'd been drunk. What had he done, again? But as she remembered, she became more confident in her rightness. "You-" how could she really describe it, "You assaulted me," she managed, annoyed that she had to use that word.

His pale brows lifted. "Look, I said I was sorry." It was obvious he was choosing words carefully as he continued, but his voice stayed mostly smooth. "I'll admit what I did wasn't… polite. And… I probably could've stood to be a bit more… chivalrous," he tiptoed around the meaning of his words, even as Ginny glared at him. "But it wasn't _assault_. We were both drunk, I was misreading things as signals—I didn't mean… it was a misunderstanding."

Something was starting to tug at the corner of Ginny's mind. _A misunderstanding_. She'd thought that before. But – how could she possibly compare this to what had happened with Stephen? That had been… so different. So much…

_Worse_, she thought, but quickly corrected herself: so different. Stephen was a decent guy, who she'd lead on with the way she'd been kissing him, and touching him, and the things they'd talked about – he had reason to be confused about the whole thing. But Malfoy was… Malfoy. She'd never sent any sort of mixed signals.

_He didn't do what Stephen did, though,_ she reminded herself. What Stephen did- nope, she wouldn't think about it. She had no reason to think about it. But in comparison, Malfoy was just… handsy. A little rude and handsy. And she'd been able to deal with him, no problem. Could she chalk it all up to drunkenness, though? Assault came from lack of consent, and, being drunk, she was certainly incapable of giving consent.

"It was still-"

_If that was assault, so was that night with Stephen. _

The thought stopped her words in her throat.

Bloody Malfoy, getting in her head with something completely unrelated. He didn't even know what she was thinking about and he was still fucking with her – unintentionally! She wanted to strangle the bugger.

"Just take them back." She insisted, throwing the box on the ground. "I'm done here."

Why was her throat doing that choky thing with all the soreness? Fuck that shit, she didn't cry over this sort of thing. She was _fine_. She had nothing to be upset over, even. She should be angry – cursing Malfoy's name – she _was_ cursing Malfoy's name!

Ginny forced herself to focus on the blond instead of on- on the camping trip. _Malfoy. Just get mad at Malfoy._ What sort of weakling had flashbacks, really. She was over it. She was so much more angry about being bought. She was more angry that he'd somehow 'misread things as signals'-

Wait.

She faltered, and very nearly tripped on her way up the stairs to Gryffindor tower.

If he'd thought those were signals… and he hadn't been trying to…

Her face contorted into a look of confused disgust: had Draco Malfoy been hitting on her?

* * *

What kind of crazy person hits on a girl by accusing them of asking for attention?

_The kind who know girls that think that's attractive_.

She'd seen girls like that sort of attention. She didn't understand it. But it still happened. And that night… well, it was a fancy dress party. Everyone knew girls dressed provocatively at those parties in order to provoke a response - that's why it was called 'provocative.'

She hadn't been dressed provocatively, though.

_Ginny, are you actually saying that what you wear determines how people are allowed to approach you? _

Her self was right: she was being a hypocrite.

But…

"Ugh!" Ginny chucked her pillow into the corner of the dormitory she'd been pacing around for the last fifteen minutes. This was all so _confusing_! Why were people so _confusing_.

_Ginny; _the answer came to her like a whisper on the wind, _everyone is different._

For some reason, the thought calmed her. Maybe it was just the subtext. Every person was different. Every situation was different. There was no catch-all solution. And she didn't need to find it. It was like a weight lifting off her shoulders at the same time as some indignant part of her slumped in defeat.

And that was when her reminder charmed for her inevitable detention.

* * *

_A/N: Haven't gotten a chance to write, so I'm trying to hold off on posting. But, as previously stated, reviews are the best motivation. So please review! I'd love to know what you think, what you'd like to see or know, anything!_

_-Turner_


	20. 20: The Second Detention

_A/N: Sorry it's been so long, guys. To be honest, I haven't gotten any writing on this done in ages, busy as I've been with my courseload at school. But since I had some chapters in the vault, I figured I could spare one for ya - Call it a Halloween gift! ^_~  
_

* * *

Chapter 20: The Second Detention

"Draco… didn't you want to talk to Professor Snape about next week's assignment?"

The blond looked up from where he'd been scratching down an essay for his NEWT-level Transfiguration course. He narrowed grey eyes at the swarthy boy, who was currently lounging across one of the plush sofas in the Slytherin common room, wearing a look of utter harmlessness. It was suspicious. "…Why do you ask?"

Blaise shrugged, gesturing to his own Potions assignment where it sat on the table in front of him. "It'd be nice to have a heads up."

For some reason, Draco wasn't convinced of his friend's intentions. Then again: Blaise wasn't the most transparent of people. He did tend to have ulterior motives. Draco twirled his quill between his fingers, watching the black-haired boy. "Why don't I believe you?" His voice was wry and cynical.

Blaise looked away, then straightened, packing his things. He'd dropped the casual attitude, and looked a bit more bothered. "Look, Draco…" he leaned toward the blond as he rolled the scroll up, tucking it into his rucksack, his voice low. "I'm just –" He glanced around, as though checking to make sure no one was listening. "I really need a heads up, okay?" His touch of annoyed anxiety was enough to belie his purpose. Apparently, the boy who couldn't care less… _could_ really care less.

"…Yeah, fine." Draco nodded. "I'll go talk to him." Blaise had never given off the studious vibe, but Draco knew that marks – NEWT levels, at least – were important to his friend. Important-ish, anyway, given their impact on anyone's post-Hogwarts life and career. Besides, he wouldn't mind a heads up for what sort of questions might be asked in class. He'd been irritatingly overshadowed by the mudblood, who'd been flying through class without a care while Draco was working his arse off studying.

"Thanks, mate." Blaise sounded truly relieved.

* * *

Draco should've been a bit less trusting. Really, as though Blaise needed Draco to get him that sort of information…

The black haired boy casually slipped from corner to corner, following his friend's footsteps through the dungeons, safely hidden several steps behind. It was a wonder he bothered hiding, he mused, everything seemed to be going according to plan. Berrow giving the detention, Snape carrying it out, and Draco toddling off to distract Snape as-

"Zabini?"

Her words cut off his train of thought almost simultaneously as he shut the door of the potions classroom behind him.

"Hey, Red," he grinned wickedly.

A flicker of confusion lit in the girl's eyes, followed by suspicion. "How did you-?"

He shrugged, going to sit on the Professor's desk. "I heard Berrow bragging about it," he lied, easily.

He was keeping his distance for now, staying at the front of the room as she worked a few tables away, scrubbing cauldrons. He knew her game. He didn't want to spook her.

Glancing around, he kicked his feet against the desk, casually. "So what does everyone's favorite potions master have you doing tonight?"

Ginny stood, peeling off the dragonhide gloves she'd been using to hold her scrubbing materials, and ran a hand through that gorgeous mane. She was smirking, wryly. "Cauldron duty." She looked from the cauldrons to him, before deciding the attractive Slytherin was the better choice, and making her way toward him casually. "No magic, either." She came to a halt, hopping up to sit directly across from him on top of the front row work table. She mimicked his kicking motion, and reached one foot out to hit his, purposefully, catching his eye with a small smile.

That seemed like a pretty straightforward sign to him.

"Wonder why," he kicked her back, his voice teasing, "maybe 'cause- _scourgify_-" He waved his wand at the collection of cauldrons, and a layer of grime immediately dissipated.

Ginny's brows shot up, and she seemed about to protest, but bit her tongue. And rightly so. So what if it was cheating? He was saving her hours of scrubbing with that little spell.

She was pursing her lips in mock suspicion as she tilted her head to the side, her hair tumbling in fiery waves over one shoulder. Merlin, she couldn't possibly imagine how delectable she was, that gleam in her eyes as she kicked at him again. "Well _now_ what am I supposed to do?" Her voice, while superficially a complaint of annoyance, seemed to Blaise to have a slight purr in it. A purr of promise. And the way she bit her lip – like she had at the party the night before, or in that first detention when they'd met – it was as though he could see her mentally debating their flirtation.

"I could think of a few ways to pass the time." His voice was light and playful, but the way he'd raised his eyebrows at her, suggestively, hinted at some… darker intentions. But he stayed put. He gave her space. If she wanted it, she'd come to him. They always did.

* * *

_A/N: I do love this ending. And the next chapters as well. I guess I can post another pretty soon. It's soon to be the time of giving, after all, so another chapter or two might make it up in November. I do, however, have a screenplay to write. So that will be taking up most of my time, meaning I'm not going to be producing more material for this story (now you see why I saved up while I could). Maybe over Thanksgiving break or after classes finish in December I'll get back to work._

_Thanks to all of my new followers, favoriters, and thanks to She Who Must Not Be Tamed and kit7714 for the reviews. You guys all rock my world. ;D _

_-Turner_


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